


Rocketman

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Home, Homecoming, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Rekindling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: “It’s just my truck,” he says lamely.“It’s not,” Alex corrects and bands an arm around his waist. Michael shifts to get comfortable and looks up at him, “I’m not leaving you out here alone,” he says firmly.“Why not?” Michael asks and Alex hates how these conversations are easier in the dark.“Because,” He says.“Because, what?” Michael prods.“Because I’m not a truck,” Alex blurts out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Larenzo prompted Roswell Prompts: Present day, Michael’s truck gets destroyed/damaged beyond repair and he looses it. People don’t understand why he’s so upset about it. Except maybe Alex. Cause me PAIN, make me cry but finish with sweet, sweet comfort and a happy ending.

Alex barely manages to pull over safely.

He scrambles out of his car and stops only long enough to grab his first aide kit before running to the overturned truck. Michael is already pulling himself out and thank god because Alex imagines that the windshield isn’t safety glass. Michael pauses on the window and Alex drops the first aide kit to get a good grip on him. He hesitates only long enough to smell gas before he hooks his arms under Michael’s and hauls him out. He manages to grab the kit and practically yank Michael back to his car where they cower against the heat as the car erupts into flames.

Alex looks over to see Michael staring at the truck. It’s twice he’s had to haul Michael away from the burning wreckage of a home, but this is inexplicably worse. Family is more important but it’s an abstract thing for Michael. The truck is his. His first home, the thing that kept him safe when no one else could. Michael doesn’t get up like he did at the prison, he doesn’t stare as the flames lick and take away his hopes. He makes a noise of unbelievable pain and folds into himself. And Alex knows he has to take him away.

“Guerin, someone’s gonna call the police,” he says, “we have to go.”

“But—“ Michael looks at him desperately, knowing he’s right but not wanting to. His eyes search his face and Alex doesn’t try to hide his grief, “it’s my truck,” Michael gets out.

“I know,” Alex says. Michael opens his mouth, “I know,” Alex says emphatically, “but you can’t get checked out at the hospital.”

Michael pushes himself up and to Alex’s bone deep relief he seems to get it. Michael’s just wrecked his car but he looks alright and Alex immediately tosses him his keys. Michael needs to be focused on something other than this and if the police come, he needs to make it clear that Michael is fine. Michael looks at him and then gets in the car, swiping at his cheeks as they get onto the highway and drive away. Alex directs him back to the cabin where he can patch anything superficial up. Michael gets them back to the cabin and Alex keeps him moving until he’s inside, but then he sits down hard. Alex gets his bigger first aide kit and when he comes back Michael hasn’t moved.

“My truck’s gone,” he says when Alex sits next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says.

“But—“ Michael licks his bottom lip, “it can’t be gone,” he says, “I had it for so long, I fixed it—“ he looks around like the truck will appear, “Alex,” he says his name like he has the answers and Alex feels like he’s been stabbed.

“You took good care of it,” he starts.

“So why’s it gone?!” Michael demands, sudden anger lacing into his voice.

“I don’t know,” Alex says.

Michael bites into his bottom lip and mumbles an apology, retreating into himself. Alex wishes he knew how to pull him out. Maybe that’s the most frustrating thing about this. He doesn’t know how to deal with this honest Michael. He always thought that getting Michael to open up would be the hard part, not what came after. It makes him feel woefully inadequate, like he’s too weak to help. Powerless. Things he hates, things he’s not sure he would be willing to put up with for anyone else. But it’s Michael, who has always managed to be the thing that pushes him past where he thinks he can go. Alex moves forward and sets about picking the glass from the windows out of Michael’s hair.

“That truck was home,” Michael mumbles.

“Not the airstream?” Alex asks. Michael shakes his head, “why did you get it?”

“Iz said I needed a roof,” Michael says, “and I needed somewhere to work.”

As he picks glass out, Michael moves forward and rests his forehead against Alex’s sternum. Alex can feel the tears drip down onto his jeans and feels them increase before Michael makes a sound. Alex wraps his arms around him and Michael buries his face in his chest and sobs as Alex tries to hold him together. Michael drags his face up to Alex’s shoulder and Alex rubs circles on Michael’s heaving back, letting him mourn the truck and everything else he’s weeping over. When the heaving sobs lessen, Alex tries to assess him and Michael keeps his face buried in his shoulder. 

“Do you want some acetone?”

Michael shakes his head. 

Gently Alex untangles himself and goes to the cabinet, fishing out a bottle of Macallan that came with the house. He looks to see Michael stare at the whiskey. Before he can say not to, Alex opens the bottle and Michael inhales sharply. Alex pours a few fingers into two glasses and comes back with the achingly expensive bottle, handing Michael a glass.

“Alex,” Michael starts.

“That truck was your home,” Alex says, “your home burned down, so, we’re commemorating it,” he tells him and holds up his glass.

The whiskey is so achingly good Michael’s tears stop, though the effect is ruined by the sniffle he gives. They sit silently for a moment letting the burn of it slide down their throats and sink into their bellies. Alex has never really had a home, or a safe place aside from that tool shed. He doesn’t fully trust the cabin considering it’s on top of a bunker and stuffed with alien hunting facts. Michael had a home and it’s gone now. Alex wonders if anything survived the fire or how they would get into the truck but remembers that it doesn’t really matter. The truck will, sadly, be in the junkyard soon enough. 

“Shit, I need a car,” Michael realizes aloud. 

“First let me make sure you’re okay,” Alex says. Michael looks at him, “physically,” Alex amends and moves closer, “does it hurt anywhere?” Michael looks away, “Guerin—“ 

“Okay, fine,” he pulls his hand out.

Alex fights against the nausea that swamps him at his hand and the glass embedded in it. Michael is very good at hiding his hand. Still. Alex carefully takes his hand and Michael goes to pull it away. Alex gives him a warning look and Michael glares right back. 

“I want to keep the scars,” he says.

“That’s not going to be a problem,” Alex says. 

“Seriously,” Michael says and Alex frowns. He’s seen Michael’s lack of scarring but he just assumed he finally got Max to do something. Now as he looks at Michael he isn’t sure.

“I just need to get the glass out and disinfect it,” Alex says.

Michael stops trying to pull his hand away. Alex picks the glass out and pours him more whiskey. One to numb the pain if that works on aliens and two because of he gets Michael into the right fuzzy state he can get him to sleep here with minimal protest. Even so after he’s bandaged his hand and cleaned up, he’s surprised when Michael looks at him shyly. 

“Can I crash here?”

“Of course,” Alex says and something relaxes in him.

“Just for tonight,” Michael adds quickly and Alex risks covering his leg with his hand.

“You can stay,” he promises and because this is a night for boldness, it seems, he looks at Michael, “Do you want to go pick out a car tomorrow?”

Michael’s throat bobs and he looks anywhere else before he meet Alex’s eyes. 

“You don’t have stuff to do?”

Alex shakes his head. Michael waits for a moment before he nods.

They shuffle around each other and Alex almost asks Michael to spend the night in his bed but he knows that’s not where they are. Michael is settled on the couch and Alex brushes his teeth and goes to just check on him. He’s never had anyone sleep on his couch. He sees Michael curled around himself and before he can think too much about it he crosses over and shakes his shoulder. Michael’s head snaps up and he shies back. So Alex throws his idea of bed out and instead he climbs onto the couch with Michael. Michael looks so adorably surprised he almost stops crying.

“It’s just my truck,” he says lamely.

“It’s not,” Alex corrects and bands an arm around his waist. Michael shifts to get comfortable and looks up at him, “I’m not leaving you out here alone,” he says firmly.

“Why not?” Michael asks and Alex hates how these conversations are easier in the dark.

“Because,” He says.

“Because, what?” Michael prods.

“Because I’m not a truck,” Alex blurts out.

Michael stiffens and Alex realizes he’s stumbled onto the thing that’s been grating him. He’s not a truck and every mention of home and loss and abandonment seems to cut into Alex like it’s a barb. He’s not a truck and he wants to make it clear that the truck isn’t Michael’s only home. He got it a month before he met Alex. And maybe the truck was there more, but Alex is here now and he wants that to count for something. He’s got Michael squished between the couch back and his frame, still firmly putting himself in front of Michael and any danger. For all the good it does. But it takes a moment for Michael to shift and tug him so they’re laying side by side, foreheads touching on the pillow.

“Sorry,” Alex starts.

“No you’re right,” Michael says, “you’re not a truck,” he shifts closer, “I don’t know what to do with people coming back,” he says finally, surprising Alex, “it’s never happened before.”

“I didn’t make it easier,” Alex says.

Michael laughs softly in the dark but his fingers curl over the shell of Alex’s ear and Alex sinks into the touch.

“You came back though,” Michael says, “you’re here.”

In the dark, Alex nods and Michael can feel it. Michael’s hand leaves his ear to wrap around his waist and Alex pulls him closer so Michael is half on his chest his bandaged hand on top of him. Alex isn’t a truck, he can’t replace that. But Michael curls against him and his breathing evens out and Alex thinks that maybe one day they can both find out what’s its like to have a home. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Follow up the car one with them going car shopping?

“Alex,” there’s a nudge at his foot, “Alex come on,” Michael full on whines.

“I’m testing out the back of this. Leave me alone.”

“The cabin ceiling is weird,” Michael says, “this one is disqualified.”

Shopping with Michael is the ninth circle of hell, Alex is sure of it. He’s going to customize everything. They both know it, but he gripes about every little thing. Which, granted, Alex can understand. But he also wants to shove Michael’s hat down his throat at the moment, so maybe he’s not as sympathetic as he thought. Michael taps his foot and Alex thinks of the list he made of ways he could kill someone with his bionic leg. Then he pushes himself up and looks at Michael.

“Find the next one and come get me,” he says.

“Al-ex.”

Alex glares. Michael has always had a particular way of saying his name and he’s always been weak for it. Actually just in general he’s been weak for the way Michael says his name. Maybe because in a lifetime of trying to keep his voice steady, Michael’s voice has always fluctuated. Always carried more emotion than Alex can ever imagine his having. He speaks in silence, Michael speaks in tones. Neither of them is very good at using their words. Grumbling he pushes himself off the bed and follows Michael to the next one.

Michael inspects everything methodically and with a good eye and a better hand. He’s back to being one handed and Alex is profoundly grateful that the situation is temporary. Michael gets into the car and rests his hands on the wheel, tapping it with his fingers before clambering out and shaking his head. Alex looks up at the elevated cabin and imagines that’s the dealbreaker. Which is fine, all the climbing is definitely going to start to wear on his residual limb. So they move onto the next truck.

“Did you think about—“ Michael glares, “truck it is” Alex says, holding up his hands.

“Damn right,” Michael mutters and moves to another one.

The poor soul who took them shoves his hands into his pockets and comes over. He’s gone from leading them around to letting Michael run from truck to truck, appraising before discarding it. There’s a lot of trucks. Alex thinks that Michael would be the person to out-stubborn a used car salesman. Why the man has judged Alex to be the safer bet is beyond him, but Alex isn’t going to pass on the distraction until Michael calls for his help.

“My wife’s the same way,” the man offers.

“Oh, we’re—“ Alex begins, but trails off at the fond smile on the man’s face.

“She knows everything about what she’s buying,” he continues, “and she always gets the right thing,” he adds, “but you’ve got the look I get after a few hours.”

“It’s been hours?” Alex checks his watch. He wants to tell Michael they should break for lunch but Michael is lifting the hood of a car, “he totaled his old truck yesterday.”

“That must’ve been scary.”

Alex hasn’t let himself think of it being scary, he’s just thought about Michael losing his home. But the man’s words dig past the perpetual motion that’s keeping him from that school of thought. And suddenly all he can think about is the sight of Michael’s overturned truck and hauling him out of it. It’s Michael’s home and it means the world to him—or meant the world to him—but God. Alex realizes that he could have lost him. How close had that thing come to crashing over the years? He’s got no leg to stand on, seeing as he went to war, but the idea makes him nauseous.

“I just want him to get something safe,” Alex says honestly, “but it’s his car,” he amends, needing to remind himself of that and the fact that the truck was Michael’s home.

He also needs to remember he is not jealous of a truck.

He’s not, he’s not that insane. He just really doesn’t want a truck to be Michael’s home. Not because he thinks it’s wrong to live out of your car or anything. Because he wants to be Michael’s home. In some vague sense of the word. Where losing a truck is not devastating it’s just a shitty thing that happens. Alex knows it’s a terrible idea but he’s already coming to terms with the fact that he might be in competition with a truck so asking some old used car salesman for relationship advice is just another drop in the bucket.

“We’re not together,” he says abruptly. The salesman looks at him, “I messed up a couple of months ago,” he says, “then he tried being with someone else,” he looks at him, “we’re not together right now.”

“Oh,” the man says.

“Did you ever have a blow up with your wife? Before you were married?” Alex looks at him and watches as his eyebrows draw together, bracing himself to be told that this man and his wife have nothing in common with a couple of guys who love each other.

“Honestly, no,” he says, “I always just groveled really well,” he looks at him, “did you try apologizing?”

Alex presses his lips together.

“Well, see, try that,” the man says, “my dad told me that the man is always wrong but,” he sighs, “I can see how that either doesn’t apply or applies across the board,” he brightens up, “maybe that’s the thing. You both messed up and so you should both apologize,” the man continues, “it’s not about whose right or wrong, it’s about if you want to be together. That was always the thing that mattered most to us.”

Alex isn’t sure if the pair of them have anything in common, but he glances over to see Michael attempting to shimmy under the truck. A wave of affection and exasperation seems to bubble somewhere deep inside of him. He looks over at the man who gives him a look.

“Hours?” He says.

“That’s hour four behavior.”

“I’ll go get him.”

Alex comes over as Michael pops up. Somehow he’s managed to get grease on him. Because Michael’s never met grease that didn’t love him. He wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. It hits Alex then that he’s going to do whatever he has to in order to convince Michael the car should be just a car.

“I’ve got three,” he says and takes him to the contenders.

Alex looks at all of them before he winds up next to Michael in the cab of one. It’s nice enough, Alex is trying not to focus on the competition he imagines he can feel starting. Instead he focuses on Michael as he inspects things and drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I don’t know,” Michael says, “what do you—“

Alex hauls him forward and pushes their mouths together, taking advantage of Michael being mid sentence to slip his tongue into the other man’s mouth. He pulls back to see Michael stunned and feels equally so at his own behavior. But there’s no going back.

“Let’s try the next one,” he says and gets out of the car, leaving Michael wide eyed before he scrambles after him.

“Did you just—“

“Yes.”

“In public?”

“You wanted to see if the cars were right,” Alex says. Michael opens and closes his mouth, staring at him.

“How does making out prove that?” He questions.

“It doesn’t, it proves something else,” Alex says.

“Which is?”

Michael sounds just as exasperated as Alex feels and equally wrecked. The salesman has turned away out of a show of politeness which is handy when he turns towards Michael. He sounds exasperated and wrecked and he looks dazed, like he can’t believe this is happening. Alex can’t either. Of all the places he saw their relationship possibly restarting, a used car lot was not on the list.

“You’re buying a car,” he says. Michael glowers, “it’s a car,” Alex repeats.

“Truck.”

“Fine it’s a truck,” he says, “that’s it. Just a truck that’s used to take you where you need to go as safely as possible. And so we can tailgate. And one day it’s going to be used to haul our stuff to wherever we go next,” Michael’s jaw clenches, “but it’s not your new home. Not for long.”

“Maybe it is,” Michael says.

“It’s not,” Alex tells him moving to the next car.

He climbs in and watches as Michael turns in several directions and takes his hat off to swipe a hand through his hair. Alex blows out a breath and braces his hands against the dash. Michel came here to shop for a new home, he just probably wasn’t expecting Alex to swoop in a claim to be it. Maybe Alex is just option number four. Michael looks agitated enough before he jams his hat back onto his head and storms over to the passenger side, opening the door.

“Get out,” he says. Alex bristles at the command but climbs down. Michael watches him step down, “how’s the step?”

“Fine,” Alex says.

“Good.” Michael shoots back and kisses him right inside the passenger side door. Just as fast as he does it, he pulls back and looks at him as Alex tries to get his bearings, “first truck was better.”

“We should try the last one to be sure,” Alex says.

Michael get’s the first one, for entirely practical and not sentimental reasons. Like them having their first kiss of a new relationship in it or anything. Alex has him pull over at a camping supply store and wait in his new car before he comes out. Michael takes the bag he hands him and peers inside.

“Did you change your mind about the whole home thing?” He asks, holding up the teal sleeping bag.

“Not on your life,” Alex says and holds up his own green one.


End file.
